I Don't Have A Quirk!
by TraceAce
Summary: Chris Benoit is EXTREMELY confused on why Chris Jericho is helping him, and, more so, why he himself saved Jericho from getting a chair in the head..


Benoit stared at his title in annoyance. This was becoming too much. His arch enemy was now all too known to helping him. Or was he just going after Hardcore? Such uncertainity was getting to become a bother to him. He was Benoit, a person who had no friends and cared about no one. But Chris was different--he didn't get why.  
  
All he has done to him was tease. But what he said was not true--he didn't talk or act like a robot. No, he had emotions..all hatred toward the guy who was a self-called Ayatollah. He was annoying him daily. What people saw in him Benoit didn't know the foggest. He was a pompous idiot who needed to poke fun at people to make himself feel better.  
  
And yet he just saved that man from pain. Jericho COULD have dented yet another chair with his skull. He had seen Hardcore early and without thinking he pushed him with all his might. He saw Jericho give him a icy glare until he saw what Hardcore WOULD have done. He then proceeded to show Hardcore what happens when he messes with him.  
  
He glanced at Jericho, who was recovering from the shock of almost getting banged up. He had a confused look as he looked right back and Benoit. All Benoit did was smirk and leave Jericho in the middle of the ring. What was odd was that, thinking back, he qas quite pleased he helped him. God know's how many times Jericho had come to his aid for some reason or another. But was it really to help him or was it to get back at Hardcore? Or maybe both?  
  
In either case, whatever his motives were, he was *still* helping him out a lot. And today he sadly proved that somewhere he was thankful for the help, even if he never seemed to like to admit it at all. He left his locker room then, deciding, hell, he needed a very big drink. He was disppointed to find they only had cans of soda. You would think they would have atleast water. He looked at the machine and then looked at it more closely then the first time. His shadow was distorted, and it seemed something was behind him. He instinctively wove the the right just as a chair came crashing into the machine.  
  
"Gees, if you were that thirsty I would have given you money.." Benoit taunted. Hardcore, who had been behind him, charged at him.He swiftly moved to the right and his foot connected with Hardcore's head. He fell to the ground, holding the side of his head. "Now, I suggest you not try to jump me anymore. You lost your chance." He kicked him in the gut and turned around. He was quickly punched in the face by a person who was obviously watching. This person, of course, was Crash Holly. He just looked at him weird and caught the next punch in his hand.  
  
"I'll kick your ass!" he suddenly threw some sort of sand at Benoit, and it connected, unfortunately. Blinded, he was defenseless when Crash took the chair Hardcore had and slammed it on his skull. Hardcore had obviously recovered and grabbed the chair and began beating the helpless Benoit.  
And then 'he' appeared again. First he slammed his pipe into Crash's back. Hardcore was more ready but he found a pipe connect into his gut then into his head. The two cousins quickly high tailed it when they saw Jericho ready for another round. Jericho turned again, and poked Benoit with his foot.  
  
"You OK?" he questioned, amused as he poked him again.  
  
"Oh yeah, I'm perfect." Benoit groaned. He sat up, finally getting his sight back. A little. It was still hazy. He looked at Jericho, who still had that amused look. "What are you looking at?"  
"Nothing." he said, feigning innocence.  
  
"And why do you keep helping me? It's driving me nuts! *You* don't like me! The rules usually are if you hate someone *you* don't help them."  
  
"I never go by many rules." he offered his hand and Benoit looked at him suspiously. "You're have some sort of suspicion/I-need-no-help kind of quirk, don't you? Dude, it's just my hand." He tooked it and stood, grabbing his hand away quickly.  
  
"I don't need your help."  
  
"Oh sure, you don't need my help. That's why you're standing here, 'cuz of me, but you don't need my help."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"You're screwed up in the head, aren't ya?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Well, I suggest you be more careful, I'm not always going to appear and save the day."  
  
"I don't want you to help me at all." he replied, purely being stubborn.  
  
"Ah, no can do, Roboto."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Well, it's quite simple you see. If Hardcore ever got the title, it'd be hell. He's worse then you when it comes to a personality. So, in short, I want the belt to either be with *you* or *me*."  
  
"Come again?"  
  
"Look, I ain't going to lie to you--you're great at what you do and I know this. If Hardcore or Val or any of those psychos got the belt it'd start getting boring, like they are. Who watches matches that has Hardcore or Val in them when they are without real stars like me or..you? No one. They think the title is going to boost them but it's not. It takes personality. I doubt they will ever be really popular."  
  
"So let me get this straight..you think *I* have personality?"  
  
"Er..I guess so. But I'm still better then you."  
  
"Now who's got a quirk?"  
  
"What do you mean by that?"  
  
"Oh nothing." he said, smirking.  
  
"Eh..whatever. Well, I best be going. Watch your back, alright? They're cheap at this." He tossed the pipe down and began to walk away.  
  
"Hey, Chris.." Benoit said seconds after he began walking. Jericho looked at him. "Eh..thanks, I guess."  
  
"You might just get rid of that quirk, Roboto."  



End file.
